


Good times never seemed so good

by Antheas_Blackberry



Series: Angels (and demons) dig the long ball [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, Baseball Rivalry, Crack, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Fluff, Humour, Innuendo, London series, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Teasing, a very vague mention of that though, bad baseball jokes, excessive use of footnotes, really lame endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 17:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19675312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/pseuds/Antheas_Blackberry
Summary: Crowley tries to keep up on his temptations. What better place than a crowded, hot stadium?





	Good times never seemed so good

**Author's Note:**

> This is an absolutely ridiculous piece of work and I fully admit it. I had fun writing it though.

Crowley stared out at the outfield, shading his eyes with his arm. Despite the sunglasses, he was having trouble seeing, what with the sun beating down on him. It was sunny, barely a cloud in sight. The sky was a vibrant blue, and it reminded him of Aziraphale’s eyes, and he found himself smiling in spite of himself. 

He was here to keep up appearances for appearance sake and keep up the practice of temptations. And what better place to do it in; a stadium packed full of hot, sweaty bodies, already fuelled by the stagnant London heat and copious amounts of alcohol.

As if his thoughts had summoned him, his angel suddenly appeared by his side. Crowley cast his eyes over the new arrival.

Aziraphale had dressed for the 34-degree heat; linen trousers and shirt- a lightweight replica of his normal attire, minus the waistcoat. He might be vain, but he wasn’t a martyr (or an idiot) and had no desire to spend the day sweltering in an additional layer. He had even forgone his tie. 

“Crowley.”

“Angel.”

“How’s the tempting going?” Aziraphale scanned the diamond and lush, green outfield before him, his gaze then turning to the stands facing them, before returning to Crowley. He was glad to see that the demon wasn’t wearing any leather; that would be impossible to wiggle out of in this weather (without a miracle, of course).

“Terribly,” Crowley grumbled before continuing. “Perfect conditions for it too. Biggest rivalry in baseball, extreme temperatures, an hour long first inning1, and a boat load of alcohol. But I can’t even get a ‘Yankees Suck'2 chant going!”

“Not even from the Americans?” Aziraphale asked.

“Not a word.”

The crowd simultaneously groaned and cheered as the evil empire3 scored their 17th run. Crowley rolled his eyes and turned to glance at Aziraphale. He looked hot and uncomfortable and had a start of a sunburn on his nose.

While Crowley was relishing the heat, there was no reason for him to keep trying to carry out any further temptations, especially now his heart wasn’t in it. “Come on Angel, let’s get some air.”

They walked down the stairs to the concourse and outside the stadium walls where people were eating, drinking and mingling. There was a slight breeze and it ruffled Aziraphale’s blonde curls. Crowley smiled and suddenly found himself being pulled towards the vendors by the angel. Leave it to the angel to find the ice cream, Crowley thought fondly. He then snapped himself out of it and emptied half the ketchup bottles with a flick of his wrist, much to the chagrin of the patrons trying to dress their chips. 

Crowley ordered a vanilla cone with a flake for Aziraphale, balking4 at the £5.50 price.

“Don’t you want one, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head, scanning the other vendors and food trucks in the vicinity. Spying something to his left, he began to walk away. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder.

Aziraphale nodded, taking a delicate lick of his ice cream, his eyes wide with pleasure and glinting mischievously. Crowley resisted a groan and the urge to shove Aziraphale up against the stadium wall to have his way with him, before slinking away. The angel merely smiled to himself and concentrated on keeping his ice cream from melting for as long as possible in the summer sun.

True to his word, Crowley was back in a minute5 with a cup filled with an alarmingly blue coloured slushie; his lips already tinged with the colour. He slurped it out suggestively, flicking his tongue out purposefully and watched as the angel’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sight. _Temptation accomplished_ , he thought to himself.

They traded licks and tastes and if Aziraphale was surprised at the hint of alcohol mixed within Crowley’s confection he didn’t let on. They wandered slowly through the crowd people watching, and then as if by unspoken agreement began to make their way toward the exit, following the sea of people as they left.

Aziraphale, taking a final bite of his ice cream cone, slightly scrunched up his nose as they walked, as if he were warding off an itch. Crowley caught the adorable movement out of the corner of his eye but didn’t register it as anything until a gasp rose up from the crowd in the stadium behind them, building to a crescendo and then crashing over them like a tsunami of happiness, joy and riotous cheering and screaming.

“Did you just . . .?” Crowley said around a mouthful of ice.

Aziraphale, the picture of angelic beauty, put on an innocent look and smiled beatifically. “Michael Chavis doesn’t need any divine intervention6 to hit a three-run home run, my dear boy.” 

Crowley glared at him out of the corner of his eye, but Aziraphale continued on, as if nothing had happened at all. They stopped at the railing to look out over the waterway, watching the swan boats and people walking hand in hand. They stood, shoulders brushing, side by side as the sun went down. No one was paying them any attention7, so Crowley pulled Aziraphale to him, kissing him softly. He tasted of vanilla.

When they finally broke apart, Aziraphale patted him on the chest. “Now now, no going past second base in public, you wily serpent.” His eyes sparkled with both desire and mirth.

Crowley cringed, rolling his eyes so hard the angel could hear it before replying with his own terrible remark. “Well, maybe I’ll let you slide home later,” he quipped.

Aziraphale blushed furiously, but still took Crowley’s arm as he led him away. As they walked, they could hear singing. “Good times never seemed so good.”

“So good, so good, so good,” Aziraphale echoed softly. 

They walked in silence for a few moments before the angel posed a question. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with any miraculous improvements of a certain player. For old times’ sake?”

Crowley was now immediately the picture of demonic innocence. “Who me?”

“Well, he is your namesake8, after all.” Aziraphale cocked his head, watching Crowley’s expression. It wasn’t something that they had really talked about, and it appeared that tonight would not be an exception.

Crowley merely shrugged; the question unanswered. Aziraphale let it be, not wanting to admit he might have provided a minor miracle himself, in the memory of the fallen angel.

They continued on until they arrived at the Bentley, where Crowley had illegally parked the car for the evening. “Where to, Angel?” 

“Home.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Home,” Crowley nodded and unlocked the doors.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Not his doing- that was all the pitchers!  
> 2 He managed it for about 20 seconds on the Sunday.  
> 3 Not to be confused with downstairs that is, but close enough.  
> 4 Ha ha ha get it- balk? Intentional baseball joke good, good  
> 5 He cleared the queue so he didn’t have to wait. Old habits die hard.  
> 6 This ‘divine intervention’ would have been better spent on the bullpen of suck, but even Aziraphale had limits to what he could fix.  
> 7 Purposefully, of course.  
> 8 Rafael Devers has certainly made a lot of defensive improvements as of late, divine intervention or not.


End file.
